


Waiting For The Storm

by HiMiTSu



Series: Changing Habits [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiMiTSu/pseuds/HiMiTSu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes never knew that appearance of DI Lestrade in his life would bring so many changes. The fifteenth change made Mycroft admit that without thunder and rain there still can be a storm...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting For The Storm

The sky was full with heavy dark grey clouds. Mycroft followed their path across the sky through the large window as he sat in his chair, back to the desk. It was cool in his office, but he knew that, should he step outside, he'd be suffocated with fog and muggy humidity, the heavy kind that comes before the storm. But there was no storm. Only an anticipation.

The clock on the wall showed fifteen minutes after the lunch break started, his PA had already left, but not before glancing around the office, her eyes searching for the familiar figure of the DI. The secretary was still there; her break started sharply half an hour later after the PA's ended. Mycroft though was still in the office; he was not in the mood to eat, was not hungry and he knew that Lestrade was not coming.

Mycroft's fingers slid over the handle of the umbrella, resisting from grabbing it and gripping so tight that the palm of his hand would hurt. He leaned on it, using it as leverage as he stood up and took one step to the window. Cool polished wood helped to calm his restless mind, thoughts running through his head tirelessly. In that sense, as well as many others, though he refused to admit it, Mycroft was similar to Sherlock, both brothers constantly thinking, always analyzing. Most of the time, the older Holmes was grateful for that trait, but not at that moment. Right now he just wanted to forget the conversation with Lestrade the previous evening.

" _Mycroft-"_

" _Gregory, I think I've given you many reasons why it's not a good idea already." Mycroft replied with a sigh, tired of repeating the same thing many times._

" _And I told you that those reasons are insignificant." The DI argued, his hazel eyes boring into his partner, while Mycroft's skimmed over the front page of the paper in his hands._

 _The politician tore his eyes from the page and looked skeptically at the DI._

" _Mycroft, it's not as bad as you picture it. I don't have many friends, with my work they are mostly colleagues, but I still want you to meet them." Lestrade put his elbows on the table, ignoring an irritated glance of his partner, and leaned forward. "We are together but I still don't know much about you."_

" _From my point of view," Mycroft replied, softer now but still not looking up. "You know everything that matters."_

" _I understand that." Lestrade's hand slowly slid over the table, reaching for his partner's and uncurling Mycroft's fingers from the cup he was holding, taking them in his own. "But I want you to be part of my life. To know people I consider my friends. And, as a matter of fact, I'd like to be introduced to some of your friends sometime in the future."_

" _I have allies and enemies. No friends."_

" _That's not true."_

" _I wonder what makes you think that?" Mycroft asked, lowering his eyes back to the paper, considering the matter closed with a question that, unfortunately for him, the DI didn't find rhetorical._

" _I know that you are detached and all business, but you are just a human, Mycroft. Even Sherlock has a friend, and you are more sociable than him."_

" _That's not a reason." He replied coolly._

" _Do you have to be so aggravating?" Lestrade asked, voice tense as he leaned back in his chair._

" _Absolutely." Mycroft answered, not even looking up. Truth be told, he was getting frustrated with this talk._

 _He heard his partner breathe out noisily to calm himself._

Mycroft, rather ungracefully, flopped back into the chair he knew was standing right behind him. His eyes didn't leave the depressing scenery. He was waiting for a storm to start.

While his eyes followed the progress of the dark grey clouds, his thoughts returned to a subject he attempted to ignore the whole morning. Mycroft knew he had problems with human communication as bad as his brother did; they were not as obvious though. While Sherlock wasn't aware of any social rules, Mycroft knew them by heart, which didn't help him to keep any relationship which wasn't useful for his work.

Mycroft Holmes pushed people away; worse even, he pushed away those who cared for him and for whom he started caring in return. He hurt people closest to him. Harsh comments, sarcastic remarks and cold words came naturally to his mind. When he is in the company of colleagues he chooses thoroughly whether to voice them or not. When he it is not at a business meeting, he lets himself relax a little; without thinking, not meaning to, he offends his lover, his brother, his friends. At those moments his practical mind supports him with an excuse that they'd forgive him, because they know that he doesn't really mean it. As it turns out later, Mycroft is much better at playing than he expects and they turn away and become estranged. Maybe that's what happened with Sherlock, Mycroft muses, or maybe it was the lot of other issues between the brothers.

Right now the one moving away is Gregory Lestrade and Mycroft doesn't want the old scenario to repeat.

" _As if you in the Yard ever do anything useful," They both knew it was not true, but it still was hurtful and Mycroft was silently cursing himself for been unable to miss an opportunity to make a sarcastic comment._

" _Of course," Lestrade retorted, managing to sound sarcastic and resigned at the same time. "You don't need us, simple mortals, to be involved in your big games."_

" _That's not what I meant."_

" _Yes, I know," he replied coldly._

Mycroft loved thunderstorms. Times when the nature was at its strongest; wild wind, rain tapping heavily on the pavement. But what was the best – was the blinding white lightning, drawing spontaneous patterns on the dark sky and the mighty sound that comes after that. Rolling around the city, resonating from the ground and then down from the clouds.

Thunderstorms were beautiful. And when Mycroft watched the sky, awaiting the rain that just did not start no matter how much he wished for it, he longed for something beautiful. A nice distraction, to make time go faster, until the lunch break would be over and his PA would return with a load of work to do.

Swirling his chair around in a half circle, Mycroft turned to the desk. He glanced at the phone, the one with his personal number, lying apathetically on top of a paper pile, and swirled again to face the window. Throwing his head back, he closed his eyes briefly.

" _Where are you taking me?" Mycroft asked from his place on the front seat of Lestrade's car, the other man driving_ _._ _He was somewhat suspicious of what his lover wanted to do._

" _Well, I decided that for once we can do something more 'common' than a fancy restaurant." Lestrade smirked as he glanced at his passenger._

" _Such as?"_

" _I was thinking about movies?"_

" _Isn't it what youngsters do?"_

" _Not only. It's perfectly normal for two grown man to watch a movie. That is, unless, you are not scared of a crowd of strangers." Lestrade teased lightly, glancing at the other man briefly._

" _Why would I be?" Mycroft scoffed. Truth be told, he felt slightly uncomfortable imagining himself among a crowd of people, not the suave and polite type he was used to dealing with. But he decided that he could endure all the nosiness of a crowd for the sake of a date with Gregory Lestrade._

 _The rest of the ride could have passed in relative silence if not for the sound of the British anthem coming from Mycroft's phone. The politician took it from his breast pocket swiftly, frowning at the screen but answering nonetheless. He pushed the green button and waited for the caller to speak first._

 _Lestrade stole another glance at him before returning his eyes back to the road._

" _Problems?" He asked, concerned with a serious expression on Mycroft's face._

" _It seems so," the politician answered, ending the call. "I'm sorry, Gregory, but I need to be back at the office right now."_

" _No movies?" Lestrade asked, without any hope, just because he needed to say something. Just because he wanted a way to express his disappointment without outright pronouncing it._

" _I'm sorry," Mycroft repeated for the loss of any words. "You know how hectic my schedule can be."_

" _Yeah, I know," Lestrade replied with the heavy reminding of all their previously cancelled dates just in the tone of his voice. He slowed the car and took the nearest turn to the right, intent on driving Mycroft to the man's office building despite his annoyance. It's not his fault after all. It's no one's fault actually, that they both are so busy and constant emergency calls do not surprise any of them, but it still stings every time one of them has to run away to do their job. The fact that Mycroft is the one leaving more often just serves to irritate Lestrade more at that moment._

After that there were more quarrels, mostly about Lestrade wanting to introduce his lover to other aspects of his life and in return learn more about Mycroft's. He thought he wasn't asking for much, but from Mycroft's point of view it was actually a lot. He built his life around his work and family, not letting those two sides collide if he could help it. He made walls around them, a lot of layers to protect his personal and professional interests. And now some man just wanted to be let into those well-kept secrets. Some man…well, that was probably a very big understatement.

Mycroft's eyes lingered on a particularly dark cloud in the distance, hoping maybe it will bring the long awaited downpour. Rain always put Mycroft's mind at ease, relaxing and calming him. And thunderstorms made him feel more confident and powerful. He needed that feeling of mental strength at that moment.

His fingers brushed warm glass, seeking coolness that wasn't there.

Rain to relieve his pain. Pathetic, Mycroft thought.

The old clock chimed the new hour in the small library adjacent to his office. Lunch hour was over. No more over-dramatic musings, time to get back to work. As always. Mycroft turned away from the window.


End file.
